Master Who
by microcontinent
Summary: One Time Lord survived the Last Great Time War. His name is the Master. AU rewrite of the new series, where things take a very different path. No pairings.


**MASTER WHO**

**S1-E1: Rose, Part 1**

**Posted: Friday 08/29/2014**

_**Summary**__: One Time Lord survived the Last Great Time War. His name is the Master. AU rewrite of the new series, where things take a very different path. No pairings._

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

**Rose, Part 1**

The doors slammed shut, trapping Rose in the basement. She whirled about, ran back to them, and tugged uselessly at the door handles.

"You're kidding me."

Something moved behind her. Rose turned. This was a storage room, dimly lit with bare bulbs somewhere in the back. Empty metal racks, random articles of clothing, and stacks of packing material were piled everywhere, with shop window dummies leaning up between them, half-clothed. Stepping forward hesitantly, Rose looked around. "Is someone mucking about?" She called. "Who is it?"

Then she noticed that some of the dummies were twitching, moving their heads to stare blankly at her. One of them took a stiff step forward, a plaid shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders.

Rose stepped back. "Yeah, you got me. Very funny." More dummies started walking behind the first one, and Rose stumbled over something on the floor. "Right, I've got the joke. Who's idea was this? Is it Derek's? Is it? Derek, is this you?"

The dummies kept hobbling closer in eerie silence. Rose kept backing up until she found herself blocked by a cement wall, exposed pipes digging into her back. The dummies had her surrounded now, and they raised their hands over their heads. Rose shut her eyes and shrank against the pipes.

A hand, rough and strong, gripped Rose's wrist. She looked up and found a man's face inches from her own, meeting her gaze with sharp blue eyes.

"Run!" said the man in a gruff voice, and Rose ran.

_Clang!_ Rose didn't look back, but felt a little sick. That could have been her head. She ran faster.

The man pulled Rose to the side, his black leather coat flapping against her as they skidded to a stop inside a lift. Rose leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The man jabbed the button, and the doors began to close just as the dummies rounded the corner. The plaid-shirted dummy reached an arm through the door and kept them from closing. The man grabbed the arm and yanked, and yanked again, and then the arm came off with a loud _pop_. The doors closed.

The lift began moving upward, and Rose let out a breath of relief. "You pulled his arm off!"

The man turned to Rose and tossed the arm at her, grinning. "Yeah. Here!"

Rose caught the arm with a little cry of disgust. It was solid plastic. "Nice trick," she muttered. "Very clever."

The man crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Rose stared at him. He was tall, lean and angular, with black hair and an unshaven face. Thick eyebrows shadowed his deep-set eyes, which were a startling shade of light blue. There was something old in those eyes, something threatening in his stance, that scared Rose more than the blank stares and shambling movements of the plastic dummies.

"Who were they then, students?" Rose blurted. "Is this a student thing, or what?"

The man raised his eyebrows and said snidely, "Why would they be students?"

"I dunno-" stuttered Rose.

"Well, you said it," interrupted the man, with a little smug sneer. "Why students?"

Rose sucked in a breath and stood straighter, suddenly feeling very irritated. "'Cause to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they've gotta be students."

"That makes sense. Well done," said the man condescendingly.

"Thanks," Rose snapped, crossing her arms.

"They're not students."

Rose shook her head. "Well whoever they are, when Wilson finds them he's going to call the police."

The man leaned forward off the wall, pursing his lips. "And Wilson is-?"

"Chief electrician." The lift doors opened.

The man grinned, and turned to stride out, tossing over his shoulder. "Oh, Wilson's dead."

Eyes widening in shock, Rose ran after him. "That's not funny. That's just sick!"

"So sad," said the man irritably, pointing something that looked like a little silver torch into the lift. A beam of blue light shone on the ceiling tiles while the torch emitted a low hum, and the elevator doors closed. Then a lot of clanging sounded from behind the closed door, and a very loud crunch.

The man walked briskly over to a fire door and yanked it open, Rose following.

"Who are you, then? Who's that lot down there? I said, who are they?"

"Oh, stop wittering," snapped the man, and turned to glower down at her. He explained in a condescending voice and made hand motions. "They're called Autons, which means mannequins controlled by a big, icky plastic alien. These are being controlled by a relay device in the roof, which would be a great big problem if I didn't have_ this._" He held up a small, ticking bomb right in front of Rose's face, and she jumped back with a startled gasp.

"Sooo," continued the man, stepping through the door, "I'm going to go up there and blow them up, and I might well die in the process! But don't worry about me. No, you go home. Go on. Go and have your lovely beans on toast with your little mummy and daddy. And don't tell anyone about this, because if you do, you'll get them killed." He slammed the door behind him.

Rose only had time to gape before the door banged open and the man leaned out, grinning. "I'm the Master, by the way. What's your name?"

"Rose."

"Nice to meet you, Rose. Now run for your puny life!" And the door slammed shut again.

Rose stepped back, and then broke into a stumbling run, still clutching the plastic arm. She ran out of the alley and across the front of the shop. There were dummies in the windows. Barely looking where she was going, Rose skittered out into the street. A taxi skidded to a stop a meter in front of her, horn blaring.

"Watch it!" yelled the driver.

Rose stepped up onto the sidewalk and looked back at the shop where she worked. This Master whatever was going to blow it up. Standing on the sidewalk, Rose watched for several moments. This had to be a joke. This was all just some sick joke, and tomorrow she was going to kill Derek. She turned away.

_KA-BOOM._

The top floor of the shop erupted in a massive fireball, flames shooting out the windows and showering the street below with broken glass and debris. In the street, a bus veered to a stop. Panicked people ran away from the building and into the road, and a car swerved onto the pavement, nearly hitting an odd blue phone box. Sirens wailed in the distance. Rose turned away from the chaos and broke into a run. She had to get home.

* * *

Rose slumped on the settee, staring at the evening news on the telly. "The whole of Central London has been closed off as police investigate the fire," said the reporter, over a picture of the burning building. "Early reports indicate-"

Rose's Mum walked past her, talking emphatically on the phone. "It's everywhere! She's lucky to be alive." She handed Rose a mug of tea. "Honestly, it's aged her. Skin like an old bible. Walking in now you'd think I was her daughter. Oh, and here's himself."

Mickey came through the door and made a beeline for Rose, rambling. "I've been phoning your mobile, you could've been dead. It's on the news and everything. I can't believe that your shop went up!"

He hugged her and she held up her arms, protesting. "I'm all right, honestly, I'm fine! Don't make a fuss!"

Mickey relented and sat next to her on the settee. "Well, what happened?"

"I dunno," Rose sighed.

"What was it though, what caused it?" Mickey insisted.

"I wasn't in the shop," Rose huffed, throwing a magazine on the coffee table. "I was outside. I didn't see anything."

Mum bustled back into the room, holding the phone against her shoulder. "It's Debbie on the end. She knows a man on the Mirror, five hundred quid for an interview."

"Oh that's brilliant, give it here," said Rose. Mum handed her the phone. Rose ended the call and slapped the phone onto the table.

Mum crossed her arms. "Well, you've got to find some way of making money. Your job's kaput and I'm not bailing you out." The phone rang and she snatched it up. "Bev! She's alive. I've told her, sue for compensation. She was within seconds of death." She walked out of the room, still yammering into the phone.

Mickey glanced down into the mug Rose was holding. "What're you drinking, tea? Nah, nah, that's no good. You're in shock. You need something stronger." Mickey got up and pulled at Rose's hand.

"I'm alright," said Rose.

"Now, come on, you deserve a proper drink. We're going down the pub, you and me. My treat. How about it?"

Rose gave him a strained smile. "Is there a match on?"

"No, I'm just thinking about you, babe," said Mickey, sitting down next to her again.

Her smile widening, Rose teased, "There's a match on, ain't there."

"That's not the point," Mickey insisted. "But we could catch the last five minutes-!"

"Go on then," said Rose, shaking her head. "I'm fine, really. Go." She pointed at the plastic arm, which was sitting on an armchair. "And get rid of that."

Mickey motioned at her and Rose sat up and gave him a kiss. He got up, giving her a playful shove, laughing, and she pretended to trip him up. He picked up the plastic arm and waved it at her. "Bye-bye!"

"Bye," said Rose.

Mickey pretended to choke himself with the arm for a second, then left. Rose rolled her eyes and looked back over at the telly.

"...Fire then spread throughout the store. Fifteen fire crews are in attendance though it's thought there is very little chance of saving the infrastructure." The screen showed firefighters dumping water on the flames. A caption under the picture read, "No Fatalities."

Rose frowned and turned the machine off.

* * *

_Beep beep beep beep beep_

Rose slapped the alarm clock, blinking blearily at the numbers. 7:30. She sat up with a groan.

"There's no point in getting up, sweetheart!" Mum called from the other room. "You've got no job to go to."

Rose sank back into her pink pillows and stared at the ceiling.

* * *

"There's Finch's. You could try them. They've always got jobs," said Mum, sitting at the table with a cup of tea.

"Oh great, the butcher's," said Rose sarcastically.

"Well, it might do you good. That shop was giving you airs and graces." Mum got up. "And I'm not joking about compensation! You've had genuine shock and trauma." She walked down the hall, talking over her shoulder. "Arianna got two thousand quid off the council just because the old man behind the desk said she looked Greek! I know she is Greek, but that's not the point. It was a valid claim."

Rose rested her elbows on the table, idly playing with an apple. The door rattled. Rose looked at it and got up. "Mum, you're such a liar. I told you to nail that cat flap down. We're going to get strays." She bent down to look at the flap.

"I did it weeks back!" said Mum.

"No, you thought about it..." Rose trailed off. There were nails on the floor.

The cat flap rattled. Rose jumped back, then knelt and poked at the flap. Then she flipped it all the way open. There, looking up at her, was the Master's face.

Rose stood up and yanked the door open. The Master got to his feet. "What are you doing here," he said flatly.

"I live here," said Rose. "And I'm only at home because someone blew up my job!"

"I must've got the wrong signal," muttered the Master irritably. "You're not plastic, are you?" He rapped his knuckles on Rose's forehead. "Nope, bonehead. Bye then," he said, grinning, and turned away.

Rose grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him through the door. "You. Inside. Right now."

"Who is it?" called Mum.

Rose moved over to the open doorway and looked in on where her Mum sat on her bed, putting on makeup. "It's about last night. He's part of the inquiry. Give us ten minutes." Rose went into the living room to straighten up, clearing things off the settee. "Don't mind the mess," she said as the Master came into the room. She darted past him into the kitchen. "Do you want a coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks," said the Master. "Black, lots of sugar."

Rose grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "We should go to the police. Seriously. Both of us."

The Master muttered something she couldn't quite hear. Rose kept talking as she scooped out the instant grounds and dumped three heaping spoonfuls of sugar in the mug. "I'm not blaming you, even if it was just some sort of joke that went wrong... They said on the news they'd found a body. I know he wasn't that bright. And he would walk through the lingerie on the way to the lift... All the same, he was nice. Nice bloke."

Looking disgruntled, the Master came into the kitchen, muttering something about beards. He grabbed a banana, peeled it, and took a bite. Looking like he'd just tasted a lemon, he spat out what was in his mouth and dropped the whole fruit in the bin. "Nasty. Bananas are bad."

Rose stared at him, then shook her head and went back to stirring the coffee. "Anyway, if we are going to go to the police, I want to know what I'm saying. I want you to explain everything."

"Never explain yourself," said the Master, grimacing. "Gives them the upper hand." He walked back into the living room. "Have you got a cat?"

"No," said Rose, picking up the coffees. "We did have, but now they're just strays. They come in off the estate." She walked past the Master, who was holding the plastic hand against his throat and making choking noises.

"Give a man a plastic hand. I thought I told Mickey to chuck that out," muttered Rose, setting the mugs on the coffee table. She turned to the Master. "Anyway, I don't even know your real name. The Master, is that a nickname?"

The Master, who had gone red in the face, suddenly threw the arm in the air. It hovered there for a moment, then grabbed Rose's face. She shrieked. In the other room, Mum's hair dryer came on, drowning out some foreign swear words the Master was saying. The plastic closed over her mouth and nose. Rose couldn't see or breathe. The back of her head smacked against the wall, and a low buzzing filled her ears.

Then the Master yanked the arm away. Rose sucked in a lungful of sweet oxygen, and then jumped as the Master tossed her the arm.

"There, stopped it," he said, picking up his coffee and sitting on the settee. "Armless."

"Do you think?" said Rose, swatting him with the arm.

The Master rolled his eyes. "Thanks for saving my life twice," he muttered, and downed the coffee in one go. "Ah. Nothing like caffeine and sugar."

Rose stared down at the arm in her hands. That was true. He's saved her life twice, and she hadn't believed what he said. She hadn't even thanked him.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"It was nothing," said the Master nonchalantly. He sprang to his feet. "Well, I'll just be going then. Bye!" He had grabbed the arm and was out the door before Rose could even react.

"Wait!" She hurried down the stairs, but she was no match for the Master, who was bounding down them half a flight at a time. "You can't just go swanning off!" she shouted after him.

He paused and looked up at her from halfway down the stairwell. "You can't tell me what to do!" he shouted, and then he was off again.

Rose took a deep breath. Summoning up long-neglected remnants of athleticism, she bounded down the stairs and ran until she caught up with the Master, who was walking between the storage buildings. He glanced sideways at her.

"As much as I enjoy being pursued by women, would you kindly sod off."

"You can't just walk away," panted Rose. "That's not fair. You've got to tell me what's going on."

"No, I don't."

"Alright then," said Rose. "I'll go to the police. I'll tell everyone. You said, if I did that, I'd get people killed. So, your choice. Tell me, or I'll start talking."

The Master snorted. "What, is that supposed to be a threat?" He kept walking.

"Yeah, maybe!" said Rose irritably, trotting to keep up.

"Well, it's not going to work." The Master chuckled darkly.

"Who are you?" asked Rose.

"I told you. I'm the Master."

"The Master," said Rose, "Of what?"

"Just the Master."

"The Master."

"Rose."

Rose snorted. "What, is that supposed to sound impressive?"

"Yeah, maybe." The Master grinned. He slowed down just enough that Rose could keep up and still talk.

"Come on, then," said Rose. "You can tell me. I've seen enough. Are you the police?"

"Ha, no," said the Master. "I was just...in the neighborhood. I'm a long way from home." He looked at the ground, smile wavering.

"But what have I done wrong? How comes those plastic things keep coming after me?" asked Rose.

"Oh, suddenly the entire world revolves around you!" The Master waved the plastic arm in the air. "You got in the way, that's all. Just an accident."

"It tried to kill me!" said Rose.

"Only 'cause you've been hanging around me. Last night, you get between me and the plastic, you're just another obstacle. This morning, I'm tracking the arm, it's tracking me, and it's just sitting around in your flat. Only because I gave it to you, and you actually kept the ruddy thing."

"Oh, so what you're saying is the entire world revolves around _you_," snapped Rose.

"Yeah, maybe," said the Master.

Rose smiled in spite of herself. "You're so full of it."

"Yeah, maybe," said the Master, grinning up at the sky.

"But, all this plastic stuff. Who else knows about it?" asked Rose.

"Nobody," said the Master.

"What, you're on your own?" said Rose. That wasn't right, she thought. What if he had blown himself up, last night? Who would stop the plastic then? No one would even know he'd tried...

"Well, who else is there?" said the Master, his tone caustic. "If there was anyone else, it wouldn't be me here." He laughed humorlessly, and Rose felt a chill up her spine. "Oh, if he could see me now... You lot," he said, looking sharply at Rose. "What do you do? You eat chips, watch telly, go to bed, live out your insignificant little lives. And all the time, all around you, there's a _war_ going on." He strode ahead of her, walking stiffly.

Marching, Rose thought. She walked faster, determined. This whole thing had snuck up on her, all the living plastic and weird technologies and secrets. It tried to kill her. But this weird, arrogant man was fighting back. And so could Rose.

She snatched the plastic arm out of the Master's hand. "Okay. Start from the beginning."

He looked down at her, looking startled for the first time.

"I dunno if I even believe you about the living plastic, but if we're going to go with that, how did you kill it?"

"The thing controlling it projects life into the arm," explained the Master. "I cut off the signal-dead."

"So that's radio control?" said Rose.

"Thought control," said the Master grimly.

"Oh," said Rose. "...So, who's controlling it then?"

The Master snorted. "Looong story."

"But what's it all for?" asked Rose, as they turned a corner and stepped from grass to pavement. "I mean...is someone trying to take over Britain's shops?"

"No," said the Master, chuckling lightly.

"Well, no," said Rose, grinning. "Not a price war, is it?"

"No," said the Master, half-smiling, and then breaking out into a short laugh. "God, no." His smile faded. "They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you. It's cliché, really. Unoriginal. And you don't believe me."

"I..." Rose hesitated, and stopped walking. "No, I...I don't know."

The Master stopped in the street and looked back at her. "And you haven't called me insane yet."

"Really, though," said Rose. "Tell me...Who are you?"

The Master looked away, into the sky. He looked regretful. Then he turned back to Rose and met her eyes, and she found she couldn't look away.

"I am driftwood," he chanted softly, walking back to her. "Washed up from a storm, of space and time, on the sands of Earth. The last remnant, fallen from the tallest tree, the most infamous child, heir to great arrogance. I'm the last hope for your world." He took the plastic arm from her unresisting hands. "Now, _forget me_, Rose Tyler. _Go home_."

* * *

A wind blew Rose's hair from her face, and she found herself walking toward home, through the park. She heard a strange, echoing, grinding sound behind her, and without knowing why, she turned and ran toward it. But when she reached the street, there was nothing there. She looked around. There was something missing. Something was wrong. But she couldn't think what.

Rose went home.

* * *

**Author's Note: Tune in next Saturday for Rose: Part 2**

**This is my first fic that isn't a one-shot and I'm quite proud of it (despite the fact that it's all drawn on tracing paper over a transcript at this point). It also isn't edited, because I just wrote this thing and now I've stayed up all night and want to post it before I have regained my sanity.**

**This chapter hasn't diverged that much from the established timeline, but never fear. Things are going to get really different from this point on. By the way...does anyone have any ideas for what should happen next? Because I sure don't.**

**(This is not how I generally write. It's exciting. Also terrible, at this point. I mean, really...I just copied the episode. :[)**

**A note on this version of the Master: This is a regeneration we haven't seen before. There's some backstory about him and the Doctor and the Time War that will eventually be explained...but for now you want to enjoy the bits that aren't actually copying the episode (and thus totally predictable), eh?**

**If you see any Americanisms feel free to correct me.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**- **_microcontinent_


End file.
